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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231237">head of household</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie'>hikaie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Apex [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:54:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>what’s left behind, or, <i>Natalie adjusts to life in the after.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>31 Days of Apex [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>head of household</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm behind but whatever.  The romance in this is very, very, very, <i>very</i> light, but it's there if you squint. Also feat. my French!Mirage headcanon but it's blink and you miss it.</p>
<p>Prefacing this by saying: I am not on the spectrum! If I've fucked anything up feel free to comment and let me know. This doesn't get very deep though.</p>
<p>As always, enjoy.</p>
<p>
  <b>Days 5 &amp; 6: Family; Noise</b>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How old was she, the first time she entered her father’s study? It was dark, she remembers, and temperature controlled, colder than the rest of the house. Books seemed to explode from all surfaces, overflowing from shelves to his desk, even onto the floor. She had picked up the first tome she happened upon, a solid piece of work on nuclear fundamentals. She remembers her father being displeased when he found her, if only because she was wedged between the bookcase and the wall, and the book had been covering her entire lap. He had taken it from her and carried her to bed, and she had fallen asleep trying to understand particle physics.</p>
<p>Natalie touches his desk now, running her finger through the dust under the lamp. She circles an overlapping web work of coffee rings, and lets her hands linger on the small book of poetry left open, pushed back toward the wall.</p>
<p>She hears Renee before she sees her, her steps loud on the tile in the hallway. Renee, loud. She finds herself smiling, but hides it, cherishes the way moving those muscles feels when it seems like it’s been much longer than a week since she’s felt happiness. The other woman pauses in the doorway. “Hey, Nat… I made something to eat.”</p>
<p>“I thought you left.”</p>
<p>“No… I can, if you want.”</p>
<p>“That’s alright.” Natalie turns to her, then. “I never thought it would be too quiet… but I miss the noise.”</p>
<p>Renee is usually harder to read than most, but there is no mistaking the way her eyes go soft. Natalie finds that happening more and more, these days, and she already hadn’t known <em>quite</em> how to feel about it. She has to ignore it for now; not because she wants to. She’s not sure <em>what</em> she wants, but there are too many things to handle still. Her father may be tucked away beneath the earth, now, but there are all his things to consider, this overflowing study, the finances, the house. Natalie stands from the desk, suddenly, and backs away, turning and bumping into Renee in her haste.</p>
<p>“Hey!” The other woman grabs her arms, keeping her from stumbling further. Natalie exhales shakily and ducks her head. “You alright?”</p>
<p>“Fine. I am sorry.” She shakes out of the hold and grasps her elbow, peeking over Renee’s shoulder into the hallway beyond. “What did you make?”</p>
<p>“Uh, honestly, I just heated up this dish that Elliott brought over. Thought that might be better than… than me attempting to rustle something up.” She bit her lip. “If it were me I think I’d… Well, I don’t know.” She steps back only to hesitate another moment in the doorway, eventually turning and going back to the kitchen. Natalie follows, and when she sees the Dutch oven atop the stove she sighs a bit.</p>
<p>“Oh… he didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”</p>
<p>Renee snorts. “Come on. It’s Elliott.”</p>
<p>Natalie pads over to the stove to lift the lid, releasing the pleasant, familiar aroma of braised chicken and vegetables. The sauce bubbles ever so softly, adding to the delicate background noise of the kitchen: the running of the fridge, the ticking of the ancient analog clock above the trash can, and the sound of Renee retrieving plates and cutlery. Even the AC is on, right now, chugging dedicatedly against the ever-present Solace heat. It’s enough, for Natalie, just enough for the moment. They pass the dishes back and forth, filling their plates, and sit together at the table, and it feels almost normal.</p>
<p>“Mm.” Renee sounds almost surprised at her first bite, then bites her lip and sighs. “He should have been a chef.”</p>
<p>Her fork cuts easily through the tender meat, and she has to carefully spear the vegetables so as not to mash them into the sauce. When she manages to get that perfect mouthful, Natalie has to say she agrees. She’s only been blessed by Elliott’s <em>coq au vin</em> once before, and it’s as delicious as she remembers. It’s perfectly homely and warm, and she curls her toes against the kitchen tile and relaxes into her chair a bit.</p>
<p>“I will have to thank him.” She murmurs, pushing her fork around in search of another mushroom. “When did he come by? I did not hear.”</p>
<p>Renee pauses in chewing, swallowing thickly. “The other day. When… everyone was over.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” She succeeds in finding another tender mushroom, along with a nearly-translucent pearl onion, and pops the two morsels into her mouth, humming thoughtfully. “I guess I don’t remember.”</p>
<p>“That’s fine. He’ll understand.” Renee pushes her chair back, and Natalie winces at the scrape. Her friend murmurs an apology as she steps over to the sink, the sound of the tap a soothing balm to Natalie’s ears. After she’s rinsed her plate, she pats her hands dry on the towel hanging on the stove, and glances over at Natalie, looking away just as quickly when their eyes meet.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna head out now… I would stay, but I have stuff to do-”</p>
<p>“It is okay, Renee.”</p>
<p>“You sure? I, uh, Makoa said he’d come over, if you need anything.” She leans against the sink and brushes her bangs from her eyes. Natalie thinks, if things in her life were just a bit different right now, that she might like to stand across from her, and brush her hair aside herself. As it is, she clears her throat and nods.</p>
<p>“I am quite alright. There is plenty for me to do here, as well. And I… I think I need some time to myself.”</p>
<p>Renee bites her lip at that but doesn’t say anything, and for that, Natalie is grateful. She nods and pushes off the counter, piddles around the kitchen a few moments more to retrieve her keycard for the Apex Tower and turn off the burner. “You can call me, if you need anything. Doesn’t have to be Makoa.” She says, with her back turned. Natalie smiles- she finds it much easier when the other woman isn’t looking.</p>
<p>“I know. I will see you tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Right.” Renee turns to look at her from the corner of her eye and lifts her hand in parting, and then she fizzles out of existence, leaving the kitchen with the lingering smell of ozone. Natalie turns away from the stove, where the imprint of Renee still seems to be tricking her eyes, and instead focuses on finishing her meal. The AC kicks off, leaving her with only the quiet rumble of the fridge and the scrape of her fork across the plate. She has much to do, but for now, it can wait.</p>
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